Lost
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The hand that Lockes the cradle

Back in the jungle, Locke's busy working away on some wooden contraption that seems to include a row of pointy sticks. Claire guesses that he's making some kind of animal trap, but Locke doesn't respond other than to ask her to pass him a coconut half, which contains gunk that Locke says is glue he made himself from rendered animal fat. Claire's rather amazed. So amazed, in fact, she says, that Locke "should have one of those shows where you fix up houses for people." Oh, and maybe they should watch that movie about the cartoon fish too, right? Shut up, ABC. Claire thanks him for inviting her along, since she's tired of trying to remember the stuff that's happened to her. "How's that coming?" asks Locke. "Bits and pieces, here and there. Nothing that makes any real sense," she says, providing a more succinct and accurate recap of every episode than I could ever hope to write. Locke says he can help, since putting together bits and pieces is something of a specialty for him. Locke's really kind of cool when he's not freaky mystic jungle man, isn't he? He smiles at Claire. She smiles back. She so pretty!

Sayid and Jack make their way through the jungle, slowly. Sayid pauses. Jack wants to know what's up, and Sayid says this area of the jungle is familiar. He thinks they're close. "How do you know?" asks Jack. "I thought she lived underground." He takes another step forward, and trips on a wire. Sayid can barely yell "Jack!" before there's a large explosion right behind them.

Elsewhere, Hurley and Charlie hear the boom. "What the hell was that?" asks Charlie. Hurley makes a face like the numbers have done it again. Commercials.

Jack and Sayid are going over the smoking rubble of Rousseau's hidey-hole. "Hell of a security system," says Jack. "Somebody trips a wire and the whole place blows up?" Sayid says there's nothing in the wreckage, no batteries or anything of that sort. Jack says that doesn't make any sense. Sayid surmises that Rousseau figured he'd come back and bring others, so she abandoned the place, booby-trapped it, and moved on. "Moved on where?" asks Jack, but something tells me we'll find out before the end of the episode.

Looks like Hurley isn't completely immune to bad luck; after all, now he's traipsing through the jungle and he has to put up with Charlie yammering away behind him. Hurley's doing his best to head in the general direction of where the explosion came from. Charlie can't stop complaining about what they're doing out in the middle of nowhere, and he doesn't believe that it's for some "stinking" batteries: "One minute you're happy-go-lucky, good-time Hurley, the next you're Colonel Bloody Kurtz," he says. Heh. "Dude, you don't know me." "Well, all this time on the island you've told me nothing about yourself," says Charlie, who it seems to me has spent all his time on the island either doing heroin, trying not to do heroin, or lusting after Claire. The lesson, as always: shut up, Charlie. Hurley tries to chalk it up to "personal stuff" but Charlie ain't havin' it, and he makes a valid point that they're lost, and Jack and Sayid may be hurt or "blown to bits" and it's all because Hurley's acting like a complete "nutter." I hate to admit it, but Charlie's right on that score, only it's his use of the word "nutter" that gets to Hurley. Not surprising, since Hurley spent time in a psychiatric institution. "I'm not crazy," he says quietly. He starts to say that he has his reasons, and Charlie says he has a right to know what's going on. Hurley considers this, then finally he says he'll tell him. Only just as he opens his mouth, there's the sound of a gunshot and a tree splinters behind them. Startled, they turn towards it. But not too worried about the sound of shots whizzing by, apparently. "Is someone shooting at us?" says Hurley, and the words are barely out of his mouth before another shot rings out, hitting a little closer this time. And Hurley and Charlie scamper off in opposite directions, and I have to say that Hurley's going a lot faster than I would have ever figured, at least until he trips and falls flat on his face. And when he gets up, there's a rifle all up in his grill. It's Rousseau.

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Lost

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